


For those in peril on the sea.

by RichelieusCats



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Slow Burn, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 07:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15456273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichelieusCats/pseuds/RichelieusCats
Summary: Set during Mutiny and Retribution, Hobbs and Wellard find themselves at close quarters when they are used as bargaining chips for the slaves, under their Spanish masters.Any similarties between other fanfictions are purely coincidental.Eternally thankful, for my Beta greyskiesallclear.





	1. First Impressions.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wellard and Hobbs meet for the first time on board the HMS Renown.

_ Extract from: 5th & 11th verse from the hymn: Above me Hangs the Silent Sky. _

_ Words: Henry F, Lyte. _

_ Music: Samuel S. Wesley (1872). _

_I think of days and dangers past,_

_When I have found Thee nigh;_

_And wonder how_

_Thy love can last To one so vile as I._

_And while the waves around me beat,_

_Lord, often thus descend,_

_And grant me here communion sweet With Thee,_

_the sinner’s friend._

 

Down below deck there was a cacophony of drunken rambling, dissonant singing and cackling laughter. In the midst of this sat two men believed by most to be part of Captain Sawyer’s faction on board the HMS Renown. Randall, better known as Gunner Hobbs’ loyal henchmen and bodyguard, smugly drowned his rum whilst quietly regarding his companion and supposed protector.

 

 “Eh, ‘eard the news, Mr ‘Obbs? ’Tis known that there is a midshipman comin’ ‘aboard, supposed to ‘elp Mr Hornblower’s crew. Not that they would do any better than us, eh, Mr ‘Obbs!” Randall cackled into his rum while his companion sat staring moodily into the dark depths of his drink, as if they contained the answers he was seeking.

 

 “Speak o’ the devil.”

 

Randall nudged his companion, but gaining no response from his crewmate, he merely gazed on in silence. The sailor started when Hobbs got up abruptly from the table and headed through the mesh of bodies crammed into the room. Suddenly Hobbs had an armful of lithe young body pressed into him.

 

“Watch where you’re going. Will you…”

 

Eyes the color of freshly picked cocoa gazed into his. Hobbs stared at the young man’s brunette strands, which were tied into a loose queue. The lad’s tongue darted to wet kissable rosy lips. The gunner’s heart sped up rapidly as he realised he had held the young man for longer than could be deemed appropriate, taking in the angelic face that was searing into his hardened heat. He pushed the young man away from him as if he had been burnt.

 

“Watch where you’re going, lad,” he growled out, covering his reaction to the young man’s unwanted presence in his arms. Then he stalked away in shock and displeasure.

 

******

 

Henry Wellard was not looking for trouble. As the men from Lieutenant Hornblower’s section went searching for a drink, Henry went with them. Pushing his way through the gathering throng, he found himself crashing into someone. Moving his head away from the anonymous man’s chest, he looked into frosty blue eyes. The man’s face was contorted into a ferocious scowl as he growled out a harsh reprimand. Then he flung Henry away with such force that the young man recoiled, nearly crashing into the bosun, Matthews. As the older man stalked off, Matthews consoled Wellard:

 

“Ah lad, an unfortunate enemy you’ve made. That’s Mr Hobbs, our gunner. One of Captain Sawyer’s favourites. If I were you, I’d stay out of his way, lad. If you know what’s best for you. Heart of ice, that one.”

 

Wellard followed Matthews and the rest of the crew, and smiled gratefully when Matthews pushed a tankard of rum into his waiting hands.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Punishment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wellard finds himself in trouble with a deranged Captain Sawyer. Hobbs tries to ignore his growing feelings for the Midshipmen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> A new chapter. Done and dusted.  
> I hope you enjoy this, and I hope get the characters alright.  
> Just to warn you, that there is scenes of violence in this, which some readers may find distressing.  
> All the best;  
> RichelieusCats.

_ Extract from: 4 _ _ th _ __ _ verse and refrain: All will be well. _

_ Words: F. Crosby (1915). _

_ Music: Arthur. W. McKee. _

  _Only Thy presence when wild is the gale,_

_Only Thy presence when rent is my sail;_

_Only Thy presence my vessel to guide_

_Into the harbor and over the tide._

_What tho’ the billows like mountains may swell;_

_All will be well; yes, all will be well;_

_Under Thy shadow in peace I shall dwell;_

_All, all will be well._

 

 

Henry knew that James Sawyer - illustrious captain of the HMS Renown, bosom friend of Admiral Horatio Nelson, and hero of the Battle of the Nile - was unhinged. That or very unwell. The crew and officers crept around him as if they were treading on eggshells. It was not long before Henry was facing the wrath of the captain.

 

An incident had occurred a few months after Henry had come aboard. Lieutenant Bush had asked for sails to be shortened due to the strong wind. The last time this had happened they had shortened the sails without the captain’s express permission, and as a result, a man had fallen to his death, to be scraped off the deck and into the tumultuous sea. This time Lieutenant Hornblower recommended that they send for the captain.

 

Henry had quickly found out that it was better to meet your heroes in the depths of your mind than in harsh reality. Captain Sawyer had snowy white hair tied into a scruffy queue. Underneath his cap, diluted pale blue eyes roved madly over the crew. Suddenly Henry realized that there was a rip in the sail, which could prove disastrous if left untended.

 

“Captain, sir. There is a rip in the sail,” he yelled over the crashing waves of the sea.

 

“Midshipman, are you trying to countermand my orders?” Sawyer yelled." “No sir, not at all. I’m just trying to say …” “Get down from there, sir!” Sawyer fairly yelled.

 

Lieutenant Hornblower climbed the ropes and sought to pacify Sawyer by endorsing what the midshipman had already said.

 

“Sir, it is as Mr Wellard says. There is a rip in the sail.” “I don’t care, Mr Hornblower. GET DOWN FROM THERE. RIGHT NOW.”

 

Both men reached Captain Sawyer, who was staring at them with panicked eyes and wild hand gestures that made Wellard shrink with fear;

 

“Mutiny, … That’s what this was all along. A conspiracy, a collusion … Get below deck, both of you.”

 

Their cries of injustice, their pleas that they were not colluding with each other and that they were trying to help Captain Sawyer with his duties, proved futile as they were dragged away.

******

Randall was grinning with delight at Hobbs.

 

“That little bastard has got what has been coming to him.”

 

Hobbs smiled maliciously, even though his heart was screaming to punch Randall and Sawyer into next week for touching a single hair on that lad’s head. He wouldn’t say anything, of course. He had kept his distance, as he had promised himself, although he would seek out the midshipman almost desperately with his eyes. His stomach lurched with jealousy as the young man's brilliant smile shone at the Renown's officers. Hobbs wondered if that smile would ever be for him, and him alone.

 

Hobbs knew that it was right of Henry to tell the Captain about the rip in the sail. But the boy should not have spoken out loud, not to Sawyer. And the punishment he would endure would be a dozen lashes, under the bosun’s cane. His throat tightened as he heard the grunts and suppressed cries, and he clung onto the mast for dear life. Trying to repress the urge to rescue Henry from the clutches of Sawyer and the bosun's cane. Randall took in Hobbs’ discomfiture, mistaking it for barely repressed pleasure; took in the sight of Buckland and Hobbs informing the crew of the lashes; took in the glorious symphony of Wellard's cries.

 

When it was done, Hobbs went back to his duties on the gun deck. He pulled the ropes into place whilst trying to calm his shaking fingers. He waited for Henry to come onto the deck.

 

Everyone looked up as a pale Wellard appeared, limping steadily along, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground. He didn’t dare to glance at any of the men, lest he see laughter in their eyes or scorn painted on their faces. Hobbs resolutely told himself that if Henry was to be saved from himself, the lad must see that Gunner Christopher Hobbs loathed him.

******

 

Henry limped below deck, followed by a sympathetic Styles and Matthews. Matthews was offering a multitude of apologies.

 

Suddenly Henry heard distinctive male laughter from the two people who had made his life a living hell since the day he came aboard the ship. Matthews and Styles both scowled at the two harpies, who grinned with delight at Wellard’s misfortune.

 

“So, does it hurt, Mr Wellard?” Randell aimed a smack at Wellard’s lashed behind. Henry yelped in surprise and pain. This prompted Captain Sawyer’s faction to roar with laughter. Hobbs sniggered in Wellard’s ear.

 

“Man up, Mr Wellard.” Hobbs chuckled as Styles and Matthews threw him a disgusted look.


	3. Desertion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Captain Sawyer is deemed incapacitated by the Doctor, the Lieutenant's take over the ship and aim to surprise the enemy by using their own guns against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> Just to warn you that this is slightly AU, from the actual plot. But hopefully it follows.  
> I hope the chapter is alright.  
> All the best,  
> RichelieusCats.

Extract from: 1st and last verse; Almighty Father hear our cry.

Words: Edward H. Bickersteth, Jr (1869).

Music: Rockingham (Miller), Karl P. E. Bach, arranged by Edward Miller, (1790).

 

Almighty Father hear our cry,

As o’er the trackless deep we roam;

Be Thou our haven always nigh,

On homeless waters Thou our home.

 

Great God of our salvation,

Thee We love, we worship, we adore;

Our refuge on time’s changeful sea,

Our joy on Heav’n’s eternal shore.

“Thirty – three missing men, sir.” Matthews reported.

 

The crew were amazed when they saw Hobbs with blood dripping steadily down the side of his face from a wound on his head. Henry thought, uncharitably, that the malicious gunner deserved it; however, he also realized that the man could have gone with the deserters and had instead chosen to stay with the men of the Renown.

 

Before Henry realized what he was doing, he found himself below decks, where he knew he would find Doctor Clive attending to the wounded.

 

“Ah, Midshipman Wellard,” Doctor Clive announced. “You know how to deal with head injuries, do you not? If you would just tend to Mr Hobbs I would be much obliged. I must go and see the captain as a matter of urgency.”

 

Clive took his leave, leaving the two men quite alone. Henry glanced at Hobbs; the man’s ice-blue eyes coldly pierced him, freezing him to the spot.

 

“Well, boy. Best get on with it, hadn’t you.” Hobbs’ gruff voice broke the otherwise awkward silence. Trying his best not to show how nervous Hobbs made him, Wellard busied himself in finding cold water and a clean cloth. He soaked the cloth in the bucket of cold water and stood between the gunner's legs, dabbing at the blood on the man’s face. He tried to ignore the disgust that must be written all over Hobbs' face. Henry's hand shook as he swiped gently around the wound. Twisting the cloth, he put pressure on the gunner’s temple to staunch the blood. A loud hiss resounded throughout the cloistered atmosphere.

 

“I need to ask you some questions to make sure that you are not suffering from amnesia, Mr Hobbs.”

 

The gunner shook Wellard off him and held the cold cloth to his own temple. When Henry tried to stop him, a resounding slap echoed. A red handprint imprinted itself on Wellard’s pale cheek.

“I understand Mr Hobbs. Completely.”

 

Without looking at the gunner, Wellard stalked off, a hand placed on his stinging cheek.

******

 

Randell was a fool. A stupid fool.

 

After the deserters had fled to Santo Domingo, one of the marines had found Hobbs lying amongst the barrels in the hold. As he followed the man out, Hobbs sensed surprise from the crew. There was a harsh pain in his temple, and it throbbed relentlessly.

 

He sat down on a berth and was waiting for Doctor Clive to attend to him, when his angel …

 

Hobbs shook himself. Mr Wellard had entered the berth, apparently to help Doctor Clive.

 

“Well, boy. Best get on with it, hadn’t you.” Hobbs growled out, trying to disguise the gentleness that threatened to soften his tone. Hobbs found himself staring as Wellard grabbed a cold cloth and then approached him very slowly. Hobbs swallowed as Henry moved to stand between his legs. It was such an evocative position that Hobbs was forced to cling onto the berth, an unwanted blush colouring his face. The young man dabbed gently at the wound, his beautiful brown eyes concentrating on the task at hand. He seemed not to realize that Hobbs itched to pull him closer. He pressed the cloth against Hobbs’ temple - a hiss graced the otherwise silent room.

 

“I need to ask you some questions to make sure there is no amnesia, Mr Hobbs.”

 

Hobbs’ control was running thin. He shook Wellard off, and as he took hold of the cloth, his fingers brushed Henry’s.

 

God, but Wellard was merely a boy.

 

Young, innocent, untouched.

 

Something Hobbs had never been.

 

When Wellard reached out to him, a force Hobbs could not name snapped inside him. His hand struck the cheek that he had so longed to pepper with kisses. A red mark formed itself on that beautiful porcelain skin. Hurt filtered into Wellard’s expression, and Hobbs’ heart sank as the boy fled.

 

If Henry had turned back, he would have seen the gunner’s repentant countenance, full of remorse. ******

 

Due to Captain Sawyer’s incapacity to lead the HMS Renown against the Spanish blockade, the lieutenants formed a plan - one that risked the lives of all on board. Hornblower had decided that they would utilise the element of surprise by using their own guns on the blockade. Leading a contingent of men, the lieutenants arrived on the sandy shore of Santo Domingo. Had he been here in any other capacity, Henry Wellard would have enjoyed looking around the island, but as it was, he followed the other men silently. He gave a mental sigh, when he realized who was with him.

 

“Don’t be afraid Mr Wellard.” A jibing voice filled Henry's ears. “Stick with me, boy and you will be fine.”

 

“That’s right, Mr Hobbs,” Matthews replied. “Us of the Renown stick together. Let’s bear that in mind.”

 

Wellard swallowed the bile that rose up in his throat. Hobbs only wanted to keep him alive so that he could discover how the captain had fallen into the hold. In truth it was no-one’s fault. Sawyer had been deranged, paranoid of an impending mutiny. Kennedy, Hornblower and Wellard himself had tried to catch him - albeit half-heartedly - but the man had fallen with a crash. And now Hobbs was hounding him, looking for answers. Matthews had already warned Henry of the gunner's malicious actions. The man had threatened both Styles and Wellard with hanging. Those threats sent a cold shiver down Wellard’s spine. He fiddled with his gun, trying to load it, but it was snatched off him.

 

“Are you trying to blow us all to kingdom come?” Hobbs hissed. “Or maybe alerting the enemy, giving away our position?”

 

With a ferocious glare, he loaded and cocked the gun, and passed it back to Wellard with a sneer of disbelief. Further conversation was discontinued when the fate of the deserters became clear to the contingent. Bodies became visible, piled high on the sandy ground. Wellard could make out the shape of Randell's massive figure among them. Taking off their hats as a sign of respect, the men carried on up the cliff. Styles, who was limping alongside Matthews, growled at Hobbs:

 

“Shame you weren’t among them, you dirty traitor.”

 

“That’s enough Styles,” Lieutenant Bush whispered heatedly. “If I hear another peep out of you, I won’t let the enemy get to you. I’ll kill you myself.”

 

The contingent then split up. Most of the men went with Lieutenant Bush to assess the situation at the fort, while Kennedy, Hornblower, Hobbs and Wellard ventured off in search of a way to infiltrate the slave camp.

 

That was where things went horribly wrong.

 

The lieutenants found an underground passageway which they thought could lead to the slaves’ encampment, but before they could get a closer look, a loud cry was heard. The band of men looked up from their vantage point to see a man standing on top of a hill. He was dressed in a mismatched uniform, and a captain’s cap sat rakishly atop his head.

 

“GET THEM.”

 

A contingent of men swarmed the place like bees after honey. The air smelt of lead and gunpowder as the men of the Renown fired their pistols at the rebel slaves. Finally, after minutes of fighting, one of the lieutenants gave the order to retreat. Hobbs used a barrel bomb to create confusion amongst the rest of the rebels. Unfortunately Wellard, unused to firing a pistol except on practice field, was shaking. The trigger quivered under his grip as a rebel gave him a malicious grin.

 

“Come on then, little boy. Shoot me.”

 

The men of the Renown – save Hobbs and Wellard – had by now escaped to meet Lieutenant Bush at the rendezvous point. Hobbs raced to Wellard’s side, but before he could reach the lad, he was grabbed by two men. Hobbs' heart thudded painfully in fear as he watched Wellard's contorted face. Suddenly the standoff was curtailed by the leader of the rebel faction.

 

“Enough toying, Xavier. These British scum might know something of the plans for this island. Blindfold them and take them away.”

 

The man Xavier grabbed the gun from Wellard’s shaking hands, and a man captured him. Looking over at Hobbs, Henry saw that the older man was already blindfolded.

 

Wellard’s last thought was that the rebels were the least of his problems, if he also had Hobbs’ ire to deal with…


	4. First Day of Incarceration.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbs and Wellard have been captured by the rebels. Something happens to Hobbs which Wellard feels ill equipped to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry it took so long for this chapter to be posted.  
> I hope you enjoy,  
> Warning: Implication of torture. 
> 
> All the best,  
> RichelieusCats.

Extract from: 5th and last verse: Angels, assist to sing. 

Words: Theophilus, 1808. 

Music: Fleet Street.  

Ye winds and raging seas,

With wild tempestuous roar

Resound in mightier lays,

His name from shore to shore;

Ye thunders, spread His name abroad;

Ye lightnings, flash before your God.  

 

 

Let every creature sing

The honors of our God;

Touch every tuneful string,

And spread His praise abroad;

Come, pour your trembling notes along,

And swell the universal song.  

 

******   

 

It was at times like this that Henry Wellard believed that God had a sense of humor.

 

The dingy cell he had been thrown into looked as if its sturdy bricks had never seen the light of the Santo Domingo sun. God only knew where he was on the island. Henry’s eyes searched desperately for an escape route. As he was small of stature, escaping through a window might have been a possibility. However, the rebels seemed to have thought of this too. The only window was so high up that even if Henry used something to lever himself up, there was no question of him reaching it. As if to add to Henry’s excruciating bad luck, the door also had a multitude of locks which could only be opened from outside the cell. Henry carded frustrated hands through his hair, feeling desperate tears well up in his eyes. He was the one who had gotten them into this mess. If he had just pulled the trigger… But even if he had, they had been outnumbered. The might of the rebel army had just been too much for the sailors of the Renown.

 

And to make matters worse…

 

Mr Hobbs was gone.

 

When his blindfold had first been removed and he had fallen unceremoniously into his cell, the first thing Henry had done was look for his crewmate, but the man was nowhere to be found. Henry would not be lying if he said he was more than a little concerned about the gunner.  

 

******  

Wellard’s fears were well founded.  

 

The door to the cell was thrown open with a loud bang, startling Henry into consciousness. Hobbs was shoved in and Henry had to leap to catch the gunner - the man seemed unsteady on his feet. Henry grabbed hold of Hobbs’ reefer and was dragged to the floor by the gunner’s weight. Lying the older man down as gently as possible, he tried to check for any sign of injury, though he was not sure if Hobbs would welcome Wellard approaching his person. Henry was certain, however, that Hobbs had fainted, and as he had no supplies the young man felt increasingly helpless.

 

Henry took this moment to examine his inmate. He had never thought of Hobbs as a handsome man. Any desire on Henry’s part to look past Hobbs’ unpleasant façade had dissipated due to Wellard’s worship of the other officers. Especially Horatio Hornblower, who Henry worshipped with undivided attention.

 

Looking at the gunner’s dishevelled state, Wellard threw caution to the wind. Hobbs would not have fainted due to the heat - he was well used to it - but Wellard thought it couldn’t hurt to make the man comfortable. He lifted the gunner with one hand and slid the reefer from his shoulders with the other, leaving the man in his shirt sleeves and waistcoat. Knowing Hobbs was still unconscious, Henry sought comfort in his increasingly dangerous place where they found themselves prisoners. He took one of Hobbs’ hands in his.  

 

Henry smiled as the other man’s larger hand dwarfed his; he secretly admired their differing skin tones. Hobbs had clearly caught the sun. His calloused hands were bronze in comparison to Henry's delicate porcelain ones. Henry further indulged his impulsiveness by linking their fingers together. Then he waited with bated breath for the gunner's return to reality.  

 

*****

Hobbs did not know where the slaves were taking him. They muttered in soft tones, impatience colouring their lilting speech as they pulled him into a room. The light blinded his eyes and he heard a cackle of laughter. Clearly his captors took great delight in Hobbs’ pained expression. 

 

“Have you got it?” One of the slaves enquired as Hobbs’ eyes adjusted to the room.

 

Two of the rebels had bound him in a chair and now they held held up a box of matches. Their malicious smiles encircling him put him in mind of vultures waiting for their prey to die.

 

“Well, well. Look what we’ve got here.”

 

 Hobbs sneered at them in defiance, but inwardly grimaced. They undid his shirt carefully, undoing the buttons so that no questions would be raised. 

 

“So, we are going to ask some questions,” one of the rebels said excitedly, almost dancing around the bound gunner. “And you will answer them.” He lit a match, illuminating the dimness, and Hobbs gave a sharp intake of breath as perspiration dripped steadily down his back.


	5. Negotiation gone wrong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbs and Wellard find themselves in a precarious position, when the slaves start to get desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> It's me again. I hope you are enjoying this as much as I love writing it.  
> Please do comment, don't be shy. I love reading them. 
> 
> All the best;  
> RichelieusCats.

Extract: From the 5th and last verse. 

Words: Charles E. York. 

Music: Melcombe, Samuel Webbe, (1782)  

 

 

And then, our long life voyage o’er,

And past the perils of the sea,

Receive us on the blissful shore,

To everlasting rest with Thee.

 

  To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

The God whom Heav’n and earth adore,

Be glory as it was of old,

Is now, and shall be evermore.

 

 

****** 

 

Hobbs slowly returned to reality.

 

He felt an overwhelming warmness against his side. Turning his head, he saw a sight which made his heart pound uncontrollably: Henry’s angelic face resting against his arm. Hobbs was overcome with longing to trace the young man’s full lips with the tip of his finger. However, he paused.

 

A small hand had insinuated itself into his, their fingers inescapably interlaced. It felt so natural, yet wrong in the gunner’s tortured mind. He had no right to affection from the young man, not after what happened between them on the HMS Renown, but Hobbs could not bear to part with Henry’s affection so soon. The pain in his chest lessened as his hungry eyes roved over his young shipmate.

 

Even in sleep, Henry was beautiful, with a small smile playing about his lips and dimples making his expression almost cheeky. As if in response to Hobbs’ ogling, the lad snuggled closer to the gunner’s side. Hobbs’ mind was made up; he could stay like this for a little while.

 

****** 

 

Henry woke up soon after that. A flood of embarrassment enveloped him. He had thought himself too worried to sleep, not least due to his fear that Hobbs would grow restless in the night. However, the stress they had been under that day had apparently been too much. He had fallen asleep without a second thought.

 

Untangling himself from his hold on Hobbs, Henry rolled over and tried to calm his breathing. The gunner obviously had not been awake otherwise he would have thrown Henry off him, especially when he had exceeded certain boundaries. When could it be normal for a boy like Wellard to offer any comfort to a man who had humiliated and schemed against the lieutenants so relentlessly? He should have been rejoicing that the slaves were meting out justice.

 

So why didn’t he feel any satisfaction?  

 

His reverie was broken by a pair of familiar eyes glancing at him with undisguised wariness. Thankful that Hobbs had finally regained some semblance of normalcy, relief flooded Henry’s careless tone:

 

“Are you alright Mr Hobbs?” 

 

Wincing in pain, Hobbs sat up.

 

“Forgive me if I do not answer in the affirmative Mr Wellard,” he all but growled.

 

The tense silence was broken when a lump of bread and some putrid water was shoved into the cell, as if they were a pair of caged animals. Cynically Wellard supposed that was just what they were. The sound of male laughter echoed through the cell walls.

 

“What is that they want Mr Hobbs? Surely we are of no use to them.”

 

“I did not ask Mr Wellard, they were too busy getting out of information out of me.” Hobbs bit out his strained reply.

 

 Without looking at Henry, Hobbs ripped off a chunk of bread and held it out to him like a peace offering. Eating distracted them, even though the bread was tough and looked slightly moldy. There was a patter of feet and raised voices, and the slaves burst in; they looked slightly out of breath and sweaty. Henry noticed that they looked different from before. Maybe the lieutenants were getting somewhere with the bombardment. This did not help Mr Hobbs very much, as he was dragged out of the cell.

 

Henry listened intently to what was going on but could only hear muffled shouts and screams. Henry cursed his helplessness. What on Earth was going on? Why were the slaves so intent on getting information that neither of their captives possessed?

 

The screaming took on a higher pitch, and Henry’s hands shook. One thing was certain: Hobbs was in a great deal of trouble. The situation called for drastic measures, and Henry would take them. He would enter a bargain with the Devil himself if it would rid him of the muffled cacophony of noise coming from mere feet away.

 

With a dizzying sense of déjà vu, Hobbs was once again thrown into their shared holding cell. By now the slaves’ desperation was making them more violent and Henry’s heart sank upon realizing that one of the gunner’s arms was dislocated. He tore a strip of fabric from his own shirt. Holding the gunner up and hating the way his breathing was shallow with pain, Henry wrapped the injured arm in a makeshift sling. Examining Hobbs’ pale face, he gently held the gunner’s head in his palms, fingers boldly stroking Hobbs’ hair. The honey blond strands glinted in the dimming sunlight.

 

“I’m so sorry, Mr Hobbs. Forgive me.”  

 

For the second time that day, the man with sunburnt skin and a mismatched uniform burst into the room, followed by a bodyguard of slaves.

 

“You have failed to give us the information that we want. We must now take drastic action.” His voice was roughened with annoyance.

 

“And if we don’t?” Henry glared, horrified tears streaking his blotchy skin.  

 

“Then we will have no choice but to perform a special ritual. I don’t know what you know about our religion of Vudu, but it can be very dangerous. Especially involving your friend over there.”

 

The man stormed out, leaving his bodyguards in the cell.

 

“You have one day in which to cooperate.” One of the slaves said. Then the door banged shut, and the cell was consumed by darkness.


	6. The Kalfu Ritual.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys,
> 
> I apologise for this taking so long, it will not be abandoned. I promise.  
> WARNINGS: Obviously, Vudu is nothing like I portray at all (artistic licence alert). There is a love scene in this bit just to warn you. Also mention of blood, in the ritual, if squeamish ignore the last bit.  
> The ritual is meant to be far fetched for the rest of the story to work, but I hope you enjoy this as much as I have loved writing it. 
> 
> I'm a sucker for comments, so please review. 
> 
>  With love to my readers;
> 
> RichelieusCats.

Extracts 3rd and last verse: The billows well, the winds are high.

Words: William Cowper, Olney Hymns (London: W. Oliver, 1779)

Music: King of Kings: George C. Martin (1844–1916)

 

Though tempest tossed and half a wreck,

My Savior through the floods I seek;

Let neither winds nor stormy main,

Force back my shattered bark again.

 

Amidst the roaring of the sea,

My soul still hangs her hope on Thee;

Thy constant love, Thy faithful care,

Is all that saves me from despair.

 

 

******

 

 

For the second time that day Hobbs awoke to a panicked Wellard. Being shaken back into consciousness by his young cellmate was not a routine that Hobbs wanted to relive every time their desperate jailers pummelled him into unconsciousness.

 

“Mr Hobbs… You need to wake up… Mr Hobbs… It’s urgent.”

 

Looking up at the boy’s scared eyes, Hobbs pulled away from the young man’s grasp.

 

“What is it? Mr Wellard. It had better be important.”

 

“It is Mr Hobbs. It is. The slaves have grown desperate, they want to enact an old Vudu ritual if we do not cooperate today. It must be a dire situation if they are willing to go that far.”

 

“What a load of rubbish,” Hobbs replied. “I’ve never heard of Vudu being used for manipulative reasons. They must be trying to back us into a corner, so we have no choice but to cooperate. We can’t give them the answers they want because neither of us are part of the Admiralty. Unfortunately, their uncertainty about what we know - or more to the point, don’t - is what’s keeping us alive.”

 

“So… What do we do Mr Hobbs?” Wellard asked, looking at Hobbs with pleading eyes.

 

“I don’t know. I suppose we will have to give in to this ritual. We can’t tell them that we do not know anything.”

 

“I’m scared that we are not going to make out of this alive.” Henry said, tears glistening in his eyes.

 

Hobbs’ heart softened. Maybe it was the endorphins and combined adrenaline flowing through his body that made him act, but he held out an arm towards Henry, hoping that the young man would take the offered affection and not recoil. He consoled himself with the knowledge that their dynamic here was much different from how it had been aboard the HMS Renown.

 

*****

 

Wellard looked at Hobb’s outstretched arm as if it was an unpleasant specimen. Although the offer of affection was being dangled before him like a carrot for donkey, he was sure it would quickly be taken away. Hobbs’ arm was still outstretched even after a few moments, as if the man sensed the difficulty that Henry faced. Henry slid to Hobbs’ side, burying his face in the older man’s shoulder. The warmth of the gunner’s body through his reefer melted his horror-stricken body.

 

There was a harsh intake of breath as Hobbs’ arm tightened around him, the hand around his shoulders stroking comfortingly along his back and shoulders. The gunner’s face was turned away, in what Henry discerned to be undisguised disgust at the act of comfort they were engaged in.

 

The night closed in, and though Hobbs’ arm must have by now gone stiff, Henry remained cuddled up to him, dreading the inevitable interruption of their tense camaraderie. Hobbs had drifted back to sleep, but Henry remained wide awake. Encroaching panic made him unwilling to close his eyes. However, fate and fatigue conspired against him. He slept, and when he woke he found himself in a position he would never have dreamt of.

 

In his sleep Hobbs must have fallen onto his back, pulling Henry with him. Their legs were intertwined, their groins pressed together. Wellard drew in a quick breath as he realised that the gunner was hard against him. Henry was drawn into the crook of Hobbs’ neck, both his arms around the older man, breathing in the familiar scent of the sea.

 

Henry felt a pool of anxiety swallow him. The thought of what the slaves had done to the gunner was despicable, but it also made Wellard feel an obligation towards Hobbs. Although the man had not said that he had been tortured, it was the obvious conclusion. The dark circles that surrounded Hobbs’ eyes, the mysterious way that the gunner was holding himself, and now the dislocated shoulder, they all pointed to one inescapable fact. Henry’s eyes met an icy blue gaze which relentlessly bore into him in the morning twilight.

 

“Henry…” the gunner’s hoarse voice caressed his name with a gentleness that Wellard had never thought possible.

 

As if scared of the young man’s reaction, Hobbs hesitantly touched the younger man’s cheek with careworn fingers, then brushed his finger across the young man's plump lower lip in undisguised fascination. Instinctively, Henry felt a pull in his groin and in wary attraction shifted a little in Hobbs' lap. The older man let out a strained groan and used his good arm to pull Henry closer. Wellard gave no thought to what they were doing. He buried his face within the confines of Hobbs’ reefer, stifling a needy whimper against the rough material. The younger man ended up losing himself completely and thrust against the older man. Hobbs’ glazed eyes watched Henry with open desire and lust, their glacial coldness melting. Careful of Hobbs’ arm, Henry pressed against him further, seemingly wanting to merge with him completely. Henry felt embarrassingly close, even if it was Hobbs that he was doing this with, and that seemed to fuel something within him; he thrust harder, sweat prickling his forehead.

 

“Ah… Mr Hobbs. Sir…” Henry moaned, almost in tears at how good it felt.

 

“Come for me, boy. Come for me.” the gunner growled.

 

With a stifled sob, Henry rutted once, twice, and then came into oblivion, pressing his lips against Hobbs' in broken capitulation. When he finally came down from the euphoria swamping his body, Mr Hobbs’ flushed face burnt into his. The older man took his hand and pressed it onto the flap of his breeches. Henry bit his lip as he realised he had no experience in giving a man pleasure before. Wellard held Hobbs' erection which was already weeping copious amount of fluid, caressing him in such a way that the gunner's jaw clenched.

 

"H...Henry.”

 

Removing his hand, Henry flushed in realisation of what they had just done. A sick feeling spread throughout his body as disgust weighed heavily on his pleasure-filled mind.

 

*****

 

Henry clambered off Mr Hobbs, his heavy breathing piercing the tense silence. Neither of them looked at each other for fear of what they would see in each other’s eyes. However, as they were trying to decide what to say to each other, a guard entered the room with a smug expression.

 

“So… Will you tell us what we want to know?”

 

Both Hobbs and Wellard retorted in the negative and they were hauled up and taken away. Hobbs realised that they were taken to the interrogation room. This time, one of their captors was dressed in traditional clothing, with a feather-framed mask covering his face.

 

“Take them into the middle of the circle.” They were both shoved to the ground, Hobbs falling on his bad arm and Wellard crashing into him.

 

“The Kalfu ritual has not been used in centuries. However, desperate times come for desperate measures.”

 

Two slaves locked the door with a deafening thud and the leader began the ritual.

 

“You will be bonded to each other, in adversity and strife. The secrets that remain hidden between you will be set free. While the bond is unrequited, one of you will suffer. Greatly. By the power of our deity Kalfu, so be it. The gift of blood, we will give to the great one…”

 

Two slaves grabbed Hobbs and Wellard’s arms and bared them to the elbow. A sharp-tipped knife was drawn across their skin, blood beading from the wounds and flowing into a waiting goblet.

 

“Seal the bond.” the Vudu shaman growled.

 

The rebels pressed Wellard and Hobbs’ arms together and tied them with black ribbon.

 

“The bond is sealed by the blood of our two participants, they will now tell us what we want to know. What are the Spanish and her allies do with this island?”.

 

Hobbs and Wellard’s eyes were glazed over, their tongues loosened by the bond.

 

“We do not know.”

 

The shaman and the slaves looked at them with horror.

 

“We have wasted our time with these idiotic sailors. Throw them in their cell, I want them killed by morning. They are dead either way. The bond will not be satisfied as long as the bond is not requited.”

 

Raucous laughter filled the room. The slaves pulled the bound victims back to their small cell, where they would wait for their inevitable fate.


	7. Aftermath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the threat of execution at sunrise, Hobbs and Wellard share their last night getting to know each other. And ... did I mention. Their first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, 
> 
> Another chapter up. I'm really excited because I know what I'm going to do with the rest of the story. So stay tuned for more angst.  
> I really hope your enjoying this, I could not do this without my beta reader greyskyallclear who is amazing.  
> WARNINGS: I'm going to reiterate that in this period, homosexuality was an offence and you could be executed for it. So Wellard's thoughts are of the period. The author does NOT share the sentiment.  
> Furthermore, there is mention of the seven years war between France and Britain. I thought it would be really interesting to incorporate some of Hobbs' past especially related to Impressment of men for the Royal Navy.  
> I have no idea what Hobbs' first name is, so I've called him Christopher. I think I read a fanfic by the wonderful Deana, where he was named that (I'm sorry if it's not you.)
> 
> As always, I love reading comments.  
> RichelieusCats.

Extract from: 4th and last verse: Eternal One, Thou Living God.  
Words: Samuel Longfellow , 1876.  
Music: Winchester New, Musikalisches Handbuch (Hamburg, Germany: 1690)  
 

 

With wider view, come loftier goal;  
With fuller light, more good to see;  
With freedom, truer self control,  
With knowledge, deeper reverence be.  
   
Anew we pledge ourselves to Thee,  
To follow where Thy truth shall lead;  
Afloat upon its boundless sea,  
Who sails with God is safe indeed!

 

*****

 

Wellard and Hobbs stumbled dazedly into the room. The ribbon holding their arms together unravelled and dropped into a heap on the floor, and a moment later they followed suit. Henry swallowed painfully, wishing for water. His lips were dry and cracked when he spoke.

 

  
“I think we are in very serious trouble, Mr Hobbs.”

 

  
Hobbs was very pale, almost luminescent in the darkened cell. The blood from his wounds had all but vanished. However, something was imprinted on his arm and a similar mark had appeared on Henry.

  
   
“Shit.”

 

  
   
Henry did not believe in any sort of religion or witchcraft, but he knew that something had gone very wrong and that this curse should be taken seriously. It was imperative that they get back aboard the ship and see Dr Clive. He gazed at Hobbs’ pained features and found his mind suddenly clouded by an unending tirade of thoughts. Loving Hobbs. He couldn’t, not even after their earlier brush in the darkness. Henry’s face heated up in shame at the memory, and at the thought that he could have capitulated so easily to the act of sodomy.  Such things were not natural. The church (and more importantly for Henry, His Majesty’s navy) forbade them vehemently.

Secretly, Henry had to admit that it had felt wonderful. Hobbs’ warm hand caressing his chest and his stomach, the way Hobbs’ face seared itself into his mind as he threw his head back in the throes of a climax. However, more dominating thoughts threatened to overwhelm him. He hardly knew the gunner, this would be the first and last time they would be in such close proximity. Henry felt trapped, as if he was clinging to his secrets the way a drowning man grabs a piece of driftwood. Hobbs’ blue eyes spotted him in the darkness.

 

  
 

“What is it, Mr Wellard? Afraid of our impending death?” 

 

  
Chagrined by Hobbs’ snarled comment, Wellard met the gunner’s eyes warily.

 

 

“Not all, Mr Hobbs. I was considering our current predicament as bond mates, although I know nothing about you. At all, if I may add.”  
Hobbs’ eyes flashed in undisguised annoyance at Wellard. “Well, now. Seems it won’t matter, as we would appear to be on the receiving end of a rope at first light.”

 

  
Fearing his growing softness towards Hobbs, Wellard burst out, “I hear you almost wanted to see a rope around my neck. Indeed, Styles and Matthews seemed to think you wished for it. I thought you would have been relieved.”

The biting retort seemed to have hit Hobbs like a slap to the face. Fearing that the gunner would once again raise his hand against him, Wellard shifted back against the wall in search of safety. A shocked chuckle erupted from Hobbs.

 

  
“That’s the last time that I will ever think of you as meek, Mr Wellard.” 

 

 

Wellard curiously looked at Hobbs’ exhausted but smiling face as the man continued.

 

  
“So, what would you like to know Mr Wellard? How can I be of service?”

 

  
   
Swallowing nervously, Wellard stood up and sat next to Hobbs, surprising the older man. Their arms brushed; he felt the warmth of Hobbs’ body next to him.

 

  
“I don’t know where to start. Do you have any siblings?”

 

  
“No, I’m an only child. My mother and father both died when I was very young.”

 

 

Hobbs looked down at and met Henry’s sorrowful eyes; the boy spoke again.

 

  
“I’m sorry about your parents. You were an orphan?”

 

  
“Yes. But I was adopted.” Hobbs stopped, the secret lodging in his throat.

 

  
“Mr Hobbs?”

 

 

The older man’s blue eyes glinted in warning. Henry realised he was pressing too much into the man’s personal life and switched tack.

 

  
“Why did you join the Navy?”

 

  
“I fled my hometown when I was sixteen. Unfortunately the press gangs were operating in that area and I was made to come aboard and work for them. It was an escape that I had longed for. I had an aptitude for being a sailor. But I shall tell you a secret: I got terribly sea sick.”

 

  
Wellard shocked himself by laughing, and then stilled when Hobbs’ finger tentatively brushed his lips in remembrance of that first time they had lain together. Blushing slightly, Wellard turned to look at the gunner. He noticed how the Hobbs' once guarded expression was now filled with an unimaginable lust which made Henry ache to let Hobbs do whatever he wished.  
   
“You should laugh more.” Hobbs whispered, their noses brushing.  
Wellard felt hyper-aware of the finger which stroked the bow of lips move to the curve of his cheekbone. Panic overwhelmed him as a pair of impossibly beautiful rosy pink lips caught the corner of his own in a gentle caress. Henry ignored the warning voice in his head which whispered that this was a very bad idea. He straightened himself onto his protesting knees. The floor was hard and freezing, in contrast to the feverish hotness that enveloped him like a desert sun. Henry’s inexperienced fingers found Hobbs’ cheeks, holding him firmly in place. A gentle whisper interrupted the charged atmosphere.

 

  
“Henry…”

  
   
Before Henry could change his mind, his chapped lips found Hobbs’ in the darkness of the cell. The warmness of the older man's lips was burning him from inside. He reached out to pull at Hobbs’ hair in desperation of for it to be reciprocated, almost afraid and not knowing why. A feral growl emanated from Hobbs, and then Wellard was being thoroughly kissed, their tongues sliding wetly in an evocative dance. When the older man sucked his tongue Henry whimpered. His heart beat sped up as their lips caressed again in a gentle, longing kiss. When Henry met the older man’s eyes, Hobbs looked dazed, his lips looking almost bruised from the furiousness of the kiss.

 

  
“Mr Hobbs…”

 

  
“I think we have gone beyond honorifics, don’t you?”

 

  
Henry smiled at the gunner's teasing. “What is your Christian name, Mr Hobbs?”

 

  
“Christopher.”

 

  
Wellard smiled contentedly. Even if he could not return Hobbs’ affection, he could at least build up a truce between them. Settling against Hobbs’ side, avoiding older man's dislocated shoulder, they awaited the dawn of their execution in relative peace.

 

 

*****

 

_ May 1756. _   
  
_The streets of Portsmouth were filled with heavy, clinging fog. Walking down to the docks, Hobbs was glad to be out of that house. He could not stay there much longer. His steps echoed in the quiet night. No drunken brawls were in evidence today, although there was an occasional prostitute flaunting their charms with provocative gestures. A girl clung to his shirt, hoping to waylay him._

 

  
_“You be wanting some company, mister?”_

 

  
_“No, thank you.”_

  
  
_Hobbs shrugged off the poor lass, who looked to be about fourteen, and carried on. Maybe he could flee to London, work in the fields. All he owned was the shirt on his back and a couple of stolen shillings. Nothing in the way of lodgings, no family to go to. He looked out to sea, over the crashing waves, and suddenly felt strong hands grabbing him. A gag was forced into his mouth to keep him from shouting for help._

 

 

_“Aye, we got one, the navy will be pleased. Not that he’s putting up a struggle, mind you.”_

 

  
_The sailors hauled Hobbs aboard their ship and sailed away without further ceremony._

 

  
_After that dramatic incident, Hobbs had learnt from one of the crew that he had been forced into impressment and that they were fighting against the French in what would later be termed the seven years war._  
  
Waking up from the nightmare that still haunted him, Hobbs realised that Henry was sleeping curled next to him. Still breathing heavily from shock, the older man gently kissed the boy's temple. Hiding a small smile, when the younger man let out a smile of contentment and snuggled even further into his chest. Christopher thought that even if he were to die, he would cherish this moment with Henry until he took his last breath.


	8. Finale.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narrowly escaping death from the slaves, Hobbs and Wellard have some unfinished business to attend to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys, 
> 
> This is the end, for the simple reason I have no idea how to continue it. I hope you have enjoyed this offering for the Hornblower fandom.   
> As always, I am grateful for the help I have recieved espcially greyskyallclear, who has been with me all the way. And to my lovely readers. 
> 
> With best wishes;   
> RichelieusCats.

Extract from: 1st verse of: Eternal Father, strong to save. 

Words: William Whiting (1860). 

Music: MELITA, John. B Dykes.

  
  


Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

Who bidd’st the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep;

Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee,

For those in peril on the sea!

  
  


Hobbs winced as the door was slammed open and the slaves descended like unwanted flies swarmed the cell, grabbing both of them in an inescapable hold. Hobbs held in a immediate urge to scream in pain as they yanked his dislocated shoulder. 

 

They were led outside. 

 

The bright sunlight, hit their eyes partially blinding them with the glare that accosted them. When the sailors finally came to, the awareness of his surrounding made him in even more liable to panic, a makeshift scaffold was set up in all it’s sadistic glory, a noose dangling before them. Wellard was pushed first, looking back at Hobbs the warm brown eyes that had spoken of untold lust, were blown wide with fear as he stood on what seemed an innocuous looking box;

 

“Henry… No” Christopher whimpered, watching as the executioner pulled the noose over Henry’s head. Hobbs was panting heavily, as the noose was tightened against the young lad’s throat. 

 

No help was forthcoming and Hobbs clenched his teeth as one slave, which he recognised belatedly as Xavier laughed, his gleaming white teeth sparkling in horrific contrast to the situation that had presented itself. No further preamble was heard, and with a chuckle the box was kicked from underneath him. 

 

**_One Minute._ **

 

Henry was gasping for breath, his hands clutching frenziedly at the rope tightening around his neck the choking sounds clogging Hobbs’ ears in a horrifying symphony.

 

**_Two minutes._ **

 

Hobbs was straining against the men that were holding him back, with no thought to the injury that he was causing to himself. 

 

**_Three minutes._ **

 

The midshipmen had gone lax, the hands from the rope stopped. 

 

Henry Wellard was dead. 

 

Hobbs from the midst of his grief swallowing him, (and the body swinging garishly in full view). Heard a full battle cry, and the sailors from the Renown had swarmed the encampment with help from the Spaniards. Relief overwhelmed Hobbs, and with a mixture of heartsickness and rage he kicked at the slave holding him, before passing out with grief. 

 

*****

When Henry regained consciousness, he was in a room being tended to by Doctor Clive. The man’s face was pinched with stress and worry; 

 

“Ah Mr Wellard, glad you could rejoin the living.”

 

His throat scratchy from lack of use and strangulation he croaked; 

 

“Hobbs.” 

 

Doctor Clive, swallowed and looked at sympathy at the younger man;

 

“He’s in a bad way, I’m afraid. I’ve made him comfortable, but there is nothing further I can do.”

 

“What’s wrong with him?!” Wellard forced himself to say. 

 

“The bond that was enacted is a two way contract, although the British authorities do not agree with Sodomy the effect of this Vudu ritual has very real consequences and have allowed for this to be privately dealt with by Acting Captain Horatio Hornblower. Do you feel well enough to see him?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

Horatio Hornblower entered the room; 

 

“Would you leave us, Doctor Clive?” 

 

The Doctor nodded and left the room, with a warning look at Hornblower. Horatio Hornblower - was an Adonis in Naval uniform. Dark sinful curls, framing a heart shaped face and cupid’s bow lips curved into a smile of relief;

 

“I’m glad your awake Mr Wellard.” Long limbs filled into a chair at the side of Henry. 

 

“You gave us quite a scare. I can see you are itching to know where we are. The Spanish have allowed us to use their embassy as a hospital to tend to the wounded, we sent word to the Admiralty outlining this situation. Henry. I know Mr Hobbs has not been the most welcoming person on board of the HMS Renown, but he does not deserve this. Can you find it in your heart to requite the bond?” 

 

Henry struggled with a response, but then something hit him like a well aimed punch. Flashes of Hobb’s smiling at him, or chuckling with amusement at Henry. The way, Hobbs’ eyes were blown wide with lust, the way the gunner had held him in infinite gentleness. A sickening fear, overwhelmed Wellard’s rational thought. How could he have been so stupid? His hate of Hobbs had clouded his judgement, the gunner was raising his defences against being hurt by Henry.

 

“I take it, you would like to see him Henry?” 

 

Wellard nodded;

 

“He is further away from everyone, I will give orders that you will not be disturbed. Do what you think is best Henry, I wish you good luck.”

 

*****

  
  


Hobbs hurt all over, the headache between his eyes was excruciating almost as if it was trying to pound itself out of his skull. He felt someone’s hands on his distracting him. Carefully opening his eyes, warm chocolate one's pinned him to the bed. Without speaking, Wellard smiled, the almost shy gesture warmed Hobbs as Henry’s hands ran through the older man’s hair;

 

“Your awake.” Henry said, with a goofy grin which made the younger man seem even more adorable. 

 

Even if Wellard couldn’t return his affection, he could at least offer an ounce of comfort as a friend. Sitting up, in what seemed a comfortable bed he saw that Henry had leaned over him their bodies only separated by a blanket, a spike of arousal pulsed through him and through years of practice, suppressed the delicious urge. Expecting a bolt of pain from his arm he realised that  Dr Clive had put his shoulder back, although there was still pain radiating from the wound. He pulled Henry into a hug, his arms wrapping around the slim body who had nearly died in front of him. The thought of the younger man swinging macabrely from the crude gallows was enough to send Hobbs into a panic, and he held Henry closer, his face buried in the lad’s reefer allowing himself the small comfort of a sob;

 

“Alive … You’re alive.” Hobbs croaked, his unused voice cracking with a mixture of fatigue and relief. 

 

He felt Wellard’s lips touch  his in an unspoken gesture of comfort, the soft pressure radiating through his body in a hot wave of joy. Pulling away, Henry’s eyes sparkled with lust and something else which gave Hobbs a glimmer of hope;

 

“Christopher, let me help you.” It was like a siren speaking to a willing sailor, and Hobbs was very willing. He had waited too long for the feel of Henry like this. 

 

Their hands searched and stroked, undoing uniform buttons with haste. After, going through hell, they had found each other. Hobbs found a sweet spot on Wellard’s neck, his tongue circling the sweet taste of Henry, who was filling his senses. Pushing Henry down, Hobbs’ lips scored a flaming trail down to the flap of his breeches. Touching the young man's interested length, in fascination at how responsive the lad was, especially that they were in a safer place;

 

“Please, Mr Hobbs.” A breathless whisper, jolted the gunner like an electric shock in Hobbs’ lust filled mind. 

 

“You sure, you want this boy?” The gunner growled. 

 

Wellard was panting in ascent, to what Hobbs was offering. Which made the older man almost breathless with arousal, the throb of his erection aching like a burning reminder. Wellard slipped a vial of oil out of his pocket, Hobbs huffed out an amused laugh; 

 

“You really have come prepared.” 

 

Handing Hobbs the vial, Wellard blushed prettily and bit back a moan as the gunner trailed a slick finger down the boy’s chest. The gunner’s chest was heaving, as two finger’s entered the willing Midshipmen. After watching the boy’s reaction turn from pain to undisguised pleasure, as Hobbs kept hitting a spot inside Wellard which made the younger man almost scream. The whole affair was going to slow, for Wellard’s liking, as his hips started canting against Hobbs. The older man’s face was almost burning up, watching Henry;

 

“So beautiful, boy.” 

 

Wellard held onto the covers with an almost iron grip;

 

“Please, Mr Hobbs. Now!.”

 

With a nearly animalistic groan, Hobbs entered Henry, growling with an effort not to come. Cupping Henry’s head with his hands, placing open mouthed kisses on the younger man’s face;

 

“So tight … so wet …” The gunner moaned in Henry’s ear.

 

“Ah, …. love you …. Mr Hobbs.” 

 

Hobbs’ hips stuttered, and gently turned Henry’s face to look at the younger man. Tears spilling overwhelmed from his eyes;

 

“Henry…” A broken gasp, erupted from Hobbs’ shocked lips. 

 

Without warning, Henry tightened inescapably around Hobbs and came, his flushed cheeks almost burning. Thrusting, almost violently. Hobbs hid his head in Henry’s shoulder and came, with a cry of the boy’s name on his lips. 

 

*****

  
  


Midshipmen Henry Wellard, felt content. Snuggled in Hobbs’ arms, he was almost crushed against the older man, smoothing the blonde strands from the gunner’s face. The sleeping man, was beautiful and Henry had almost lost him, tearing up he held onto Hobbs even harder, the warmth seeping into Henry’s frozen body. Blue eyes, found his. Unlike their previous encounters, Hobbs’ eyes held a measure of warmth;

 

“What’s the matter, Henry?” 

 

Hobbs cupped, the younger man’s face in concern;

 

“I nearly lost you, due to my stubbornness. Mr Hobbs.” 

 

The older man, only smiled;

 

“It should be me that should be apologising for my behaviour, especially on board the Renown. You deserve someone better than me, an old washed up sailor. With a damaged past.” 

 

“Tell me.” Henry implored.

 

Sighing, Hobbs looked pained as he secrets that he had kept so close to his chest were finally revealed; 

 

“I told you that I had lost both my parents when I was younger, I was finally adopted by my family’s distant relations. They did not like me, I was a poor relation and they did not treat me well. Let’s just say, my boy, that I lost my innocence. Corruption, vice ... . And then I met you, and we were bonded and I could not bear it if you were forced to requite the bond, so I chose to die.” 

 

The wounded look in Hobbs’ eyes, finally defeated Henry and the younger man whispered;

 

“Seen as its the time for confessions; I do love you Mr Hobbs, bond or not.” 

 

Swallowing back a wave of tears, Hobbs pressed a gentle kiss to the Midshipmen's brow.

 

“I love you too, boy. Now, sleep …"  

 

_ Fin.  _

 


End file.
